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the chevy stolen late one evening was too young to understand fatherdaughter politics and too old to have much tolerance for a snotty 16 year old. you were so decent about it, dad, and i think that was probably what made it the worst night of my life. our relationship improved immensely when i married a man you liked, and things really turned around when we begin making babies right and left. we didn’t have a television set, you know, and we had to entertain ourselves somehow. i didn’t know what to expect of you and mom as grandparents but i didn’t have to wait long to find out. those babies adored you then just as they adore you now. when i see you with all your grandchildren, i know you’ve given them the finest gift a grandparent can give. you’ve given them yourself. somewhere along the line, the generation gap evaporated. age separates us now and little else. we agree on most everything, perhaps because we’ve learned there isn’t much worth disagreeing about. however, i would like to mention that fly fishing isn’t all you’ve cracked it up to be, dad. you can say what you want about wrist action and stance and blah, blah, blah... i’ve been happily drifting for a lot of years,